


Breathe for Me

by NerdyAdjacent



Series: Dark Days [2]
Category: WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment, ambrollins - Fandom
Genre: Community: wrestlingkink, Dark, Hand Job, Hate Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oxygen Deprivation, Revenge, ambrollins - Freeform, breath play, post shield
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 07:12:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6228766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyAdjacent/pseuds/NerdyAdjacent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Dean/Seth -Breathplay </p><p>"How far would you let me go? Huh? Would you let me hold you like this until you passed out? What would I do with you then? So many things, Seth.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe for Me

**Author's Note:**

> Full prompt:
> 
> "WWE - Dean/Seth - Breathplay  
> As far as details go (i.e. the method used), feel free to go wild with it. I am just in desperate need of a fic where Seth trusts Dean enough to restrict his air until he's on the verge - keyword there - of passing out."

One...

Two...

Three...

Four...

By the time he got to ten, he had begun to struggle under Dean's touch. He was counting slowly, hand clamped over his mouth while his thumb and forefinger pinched his nose closed. Air. He needed air. But Dean would deny him that luxury, at least for now.

“You think you can do that to me and get away with it?” His voice was mere centimeters from his ear, quiet and determined, but breathy and heavy with the knowledge that he was absolutely controlling Seth so completely. The older man's body was pressing into his, all anger and sweat and determination.

Fifteen…

Sixteen…

Seventeen…

“Do you know how long I laid there?” He asked as if Seth could really answer him. But Seth knew he didn't really expect an answer. This was payback, pure and simple. He knew when Dean's knee snaked between his legs and pressed against his already hardening dick, he would let him do whatever he wanted. He wanted to be used like this, tortured and humiliated by the man holding him. He deserved this, but he couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for it. “Hurt...Betrayed... Lost…and it was all your fault.”

Twenty…

Twenty-one…

Twenty-two…

“You like this, don't you?” Dean's gruff voice asked before biting down hard on Seth's earlobe. He moaned against his hand, the noise immediately captured in his throat thanks to Deans iron grip on his airflow. Why hadn't he tried to fight back? Why was he letting Dean deprive him of the precious oxygen his body was now begging him for? Maybe it was a sick sense of trust for the man looking at him with such disdain, such lust.

Twenty-eight…

Twenty-nine…

Thirty...

“How far would you let me go? Huh? Would you let me hold you like this until you passed out? What would I do with you then? So many things, Seth.”

Yes, dear god, yes. He would let Dean continue this beautiful torment. Again Seth moaned. He was now painfully hard, his erection pressed heavily against his hip, pulsing and unattended. He needed some sort of friction, something from Dean other than air. The grin widened on Dean's lips and he slipped his free hand down to Seth's crotch, palming him through his gear.

Thirty-three…

Thirty-four…

Thirty-five…

“Don't think for one second that this is a reward, you son of a bitch.” Dean breathed into his ear as his hand slipped into Seth's pants and took a hold of his leaking member, no moving yet but rather letting his thumb lazily graze over the head. “This is me proving that you have no power over me. You're nothing to me anymore.”

Seth's vision was beginning to become hazy at the edges. Oxygen deprived and unbelievably aroused and he needed more, more of Dean's anger, more of Dean's attempt at making him suffer. It was painful and glorious and beautiful and hateful. He never wanted it to stop.

Forty-two...

Forty-three...

Forty-four...

“Can I make you cum in you pants, Seth?” Gruff and breathy and damnable. “Completely deprived of air in your lungs?”

By now, his hands hung limply at his sides. The only thing holding him up was the knee between his legs, the hand at his face, and the other stroking him slowly, painfully slowly.

Fifty…

Fifty-one…

Fifty-two…

Dean's hand was working magic with every rough tug at him. He was speeding up now and Seth idly wondered if he didn't actually want to hurt him. Dean was a sick guy, always had been, but he didn't think that he would actually let him pass out. Call it trust, confidence in a shattered brotherhood, maybe even a bit of love or respect. But Dean's grip was beginning to falter on his mouth and nose. Even before his eyes began rolling back into his head he could see the older man's conviction wavering.

Fifty-seven…

Fifty-eight…

Fifty-nine…

The strangled cry was barely caught in Dean's hand as he came hard into his palm, shooting spurt after spurt over his fingers and into his own pants.

Sixty…

Dean let go and Seth heaved in a gasp so loud and hard that it physically hurt. When the other man moved away, he fell coughing and gasping into a sated heap on the floor, trying desperately to pull in the breath he had been denied.

Brown eyes lifted to meet loathsome blue orbs watching in angry chorus with his own. “I still...win...Dean.” He choked out from the floor.

Dean grinned and shook his head, unconvinced in Seths own conviction. “Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

 

 


End file.
